A/N: Nothing much but...Shylea's past is just like Michael Myer's just with a few tweaks.

Shylea belongs to me, Michael Myers does not. :)

Chapter 2: Nightmares

"Shylea! Get down here this instant if you want to go trick-or-treating!" Courtney, little Shylea's sister yells. Shylea ties her long black hair back into a ponytail, and grabs her mask, soon after, running downstairs. "Here's your baggie. Now go out there and have fun!" Courtney smiles, handing the young Shylea a pillowcase. "You're leaving her unattended?" Mr. Jamie, Courtney's boyfriend, asks. "Yes. Now hurry upstairs, Jamie!" Courtney cheers as the young Shylea walks out of the house.

Shylea peers into the window, two silhouttes in her sister's room. Shylea walks away in disgust, and walks across the street to her neighbors house. She rings the doorbell with frail hands, and the door swings open and she is met with a smiling face. Shylea holds up her bag and mouths; trick-or-treat! The lady grabs a handful of candy from a basket, and drops it into Shylea's pillowcase. Shylea fixates her gaze on the lady's husband in the kitchen. He is cutting steak, with a large butcher's knife. Shylea quickly half-smiles at the lady, and dashes back to her house, dropping her pillowcase of candy. She slowly walks up the stairs to her house, slowly opening the door, and walks in, heading straight for the kitchen. She approaches a drawer, opens it, and is met with her reflection in the steel blade of a large knife. Shylea picks up the knife, her hands sweaty while gripping the wooden handle of the knife tightly. She proceeds upstairs, but stops when Mr. Jamie begins to walk down the hallway to the stairs. Shylea quickly retreats to behind the wall, and Mr. Jamie hollers a good-bye, and dashes out the door. Shylea then re-proceeds to climb the stairs to Courtney's room. As she reaches the top of the stairs, Shylea realizes that she has a good reason for doing this. What Courtney did was wrong. Very wrong. Courtney promised Shylea that she would carve pumpkins and take her out trick-or-treating, and watch scary movies. But no. She was too busy doing bad things with her boyfriend. And that upsets Shylea. Shylea now opens the door to her sister's room, and walks over to Courtney. "Shylea! Don't look at me that's gross!" Courtney yells, a smile creeping on her face. The smile fades in a snap when she sees the knife slowly raised up. "Shylea! What are you-" Courtney screams, getting cut off by the sudden 3 stabs of the knife. Shylea in pure anger stabs her sister another five times before leaving in a trance.

Shylea walks down the stairs, and twists the doorknob to the front porch. Shylea emerges from the house, as her parents pull up. Mr. and Mrs. Brandt walk out from their car, only to be met with a masked Shylea, holding a dripping bloody kitchen knife, standing there, in a trance. Her father walks up to her, and pulls the mask from her face, "Shylea?!" her father and mother say, in complete and utter surprise and horror at their daughter standing there with a blank emotion on her face, knowing that their 6-year old murdered somebody.

"SHYLEA!"

I wake up with a hot sweat, and accidentally roll off the bed. I hit the concrete floor with a wham, and recover almost immediately after. A sharp pain in my shoulder hits me in a flash. My hand cuffs only allow me to do so much. I walk over to the bars of the cell, and I am met with a small portion of food on a tray. As soon as I see it, my appetite quickly vanishes. I look over in Michael's cell, and I am nearly scared half to death, by Michael standing there, watching and almost...articulating?...my every movement. I crawl backwards, being on the floor, the ground cold against me. Michael's head tilts, his pale white mask almost the only thing visible in the darkness. The only light is coming from the bared-window in my cell, and I quickly climb onto my bed, me being tall enough to see through the window. I look through, and the weather outside is miserable, cloudy, rainy, and dark.

The door down the hallway opens, and I quickly, on instinct, hop off the bed. "You two ready? Hope y'all are, cause I'm yer' escort and I'm gonna' have to escort ya'," a man with a southern accent walks in, unlocking my cell first. I stand up tall, and walk out cautiously, hoping that this guard won't tazor me or anything. I take into notice how quickly Michael's head snaps up when the guard unlocks his cell. Michael slowly, and intimidatingly walks out of his cell. His eyes lock with mine, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes are now almost pitch black, yet small sparks of blue are visible. Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me, I pray. Michael just stands there, staring right at me, unblinking. My heart races, and the tension rises. "Alright y'all. This is gettin' weird. Here, er...follow me." The guard says, leading us out of the room. As soon as we exit the cellular containment, a load of fresh air hits me like a tidal wave. Good-bye stuffy cell. At least for now.

The room is large, and open. Some desks and cubicles line the walls, but nothing else but computers and a large 'smart board'. "This way please," the guard says, leading us to a strange door, with a vault on it, and the guard twists the vault three times before it opens. Right, right, left. He drags open the door, and leads us in, and shuts the door behind us. I realize that I am standing next to Michael, and slowly back away. The room is all white, and a few people in lab coats are seating at a long rectangular table in the middle of the room. They were conversing until one of them glances at us and they all go dead silent. Dead silent. "Oh, Mr. Myers, and Ms. Brandt. Welcome. We will just be conducting a few experiments on you two. Small tests, no need to worry. Nothing to do with needles, medication, or anything along those lines. Now please, be seated." A female doctor, which I assume is the second in command, says with a fear-filled smile. Her gaze is heavily focused on Michael Myers like he is a monstrocity, a creature. Psychopathic, mentally disturbed killer. In a way, Michael and I are...similar.

"Michael, here is a notepad. Shylea, here is a notepad also. You both can write notes to eachother for communication. Understand?" The female doctor instructs, and I just glare. I can tell already that we're not going to get along. But, I don't care. The doctors leave, except for two guards, and they leave to a separate room. This reminds me an awful lot like an interrogation, but it isn't. I know they're watching from behind that mirror. I grab one of the pens, and write down a question for Michael.

Why are you still here?

A few moments passed since I showed him the question.

Because I let them.

I stare at Michael's pad with confusion. I then write:

Let who do what?

I show him the notepad. He quickly writes down something.

Let them capture me. It was a plan.

A plan to do what?

A plan to finally get my revenge.

You know that they're going to collect these pads, right?

Yes.

Then why are you telling me this if you know full well that they could probably send you to a even more maximum security sanitarium?

Because you asked.

Very funny. So, why do you even bother writing this?

Because I haven't communicated with a person I haven't killed yet.

So, if you escape, you're going to kill me?

Maybe.

You're too nice.

Really? According to Loomis...

WhO CARES ABOUT LOOMIS. I HATE HIM FOR RUINING ME.

I can understand that.

Oh, really?

Yes.

Our conversation ended abruptly with the same female doctor walking in, and collecting our notepads. As soon as she reads, 'I let them capture me, it was a plan,' the doctor nearly screamed, and the guards pinned Michael to the wall. I yelped to myself, and the guards throw Michael to the ground and I stand up. "No," I mouth, trying to get their attention. "No!" I say, my voice quiet. The guards are trying to knock Michael out. They are punching him in the face, and Michael seems to be deflecting them all. "MICHAEL!" I manage to scream, and the guards, startled, back off. Michael quickly wraps his hand cuffs around one of the guards' neck, twist his wrists in order to tighten the chain. The other guard stands in awe at how quickly Michael did that. Michael briskly tightens the chain, and a sickening snap fills the air. He untangles his chain, and the guard falls to the ground, his neck red and extended from the normal length. The other guard bangs on the door for help, and I spot a key for my hand cuff in a compartment on the table. Somebody must have forgotten them.

I pick them up, and unlock the cuffs. They fall off, hitting the ground with a loud clink, and Michael's head snaps around, and his eyes show that he's...smiling?! The way his eyes sparked at the fact I had found a key and managed to get my hand cuffs off in a matter of seconds, definately showed a smile. But, why was he smiling at me? Suddenly, a loud bang fills the air, and smoke emerges from behind Michael's back. "Michael?" I mouth, and Michael falls to his knees, the guard now visible behind him, his gun raised. I creep over to the other dead guard, and take his gun while the other guard was fixated on the kneeling Michael. I stand up swiftly, the gun aimed at the guard, getting ready to fire, when a pinch in my neck stops me. Tranquilizer darts...so sleepy...I see a blurred form above me, after I fell. "Dr. Loomis..." I barely say, before my eyes close, and darkness overtakes me.